Be That One Person to Some Person

We did a thing today.

We loaded up the whole family and went Christmas Caroling. I guess that's still what it's called when you have six people singing five different notes that are too far apart to  all be melody and too close together to be harmonious, and it sounds a bit discombobulated,  but if the listener is well versed in Christmas songs, they might be able to sing along with a fair chance of hitting one of the notes already being sung.

We went Christmas Caroling to a handful of people.  

Because our Christmas caroling is a little like Wooton Bassett's mail delivering, it took us roughly two hours to make five stops, but we returned home blessed in our hearts, and with more things in our pickup than we had when we left home to give stuff away. Crazy how that works.

Our last stop was a man who lives alone and has Very Few People.  We have visited him a handful of times in the past few years, and each time, I tell myself we need to go routinely.  He still has the pictures on his fridge that the boys made for him 2-3 years ago, and today, he wiggled things around on the fridge to make room for one more, and proudly displayed the painted rock in a prominent place on his shelf.

I get a little discouraged with myself sometimes. I have a collection of friends who specialize in doing Big Things For Lots Of People.  They frequently and successfully host large dinner parties or organize complex events. This is not me. I prefer doing Little Things For A Few People. 

As we left this man's place, I was struck with the power of Doing Little Things For A Few People.

If every person would Just Do One Little Thing for a handful of people every day or every week or every month or every year, all those One Little Things might make a difference. 

I feel most days like all I have to give, I give to our family. The little bit I have left, I give to our business, for the sake of our family. That leaves me with a tiny, teeny, little bit left to give into the community. 

If all you have left to give is a  tiny, teeny, little bit, then just do a tiny, teeny, little bit for a handful of people. 

It just might mean the world to someone. 

The Ten Thing Thing

I look around and see hundreds of things to do. I can't do hundreds of things in 2 minutes (which is the average amount of time I have to focus, with 4 kids under 10), but I CAN do Ten Things.

I swoop up Ten Things off one counter and go put them away. Even most of my children's URGENT needs can wait that long to be met.

I get bored easily, and housework holds little intrinsic interest to me, so I force myself to do it, and I break it up so I can tolerate it. Ten Things. I can do Ten Things.

Sometimes, I race the dishes against the laundry. Ten dishes away. (Go change a diaper.) Ten towels folded. (Answer a math question.) Ten dishes. (Break up a fight.) Ten shirts. (Get a drink for a Small, Thirsty Human.)

Then suddenly, there are only a few left, and I quickly finish them. 

The amazing thing is, those first 10 are the worst. After I've done 10, I often go ahead and do another 20. 

If it's a night when snuggling children took priority over dishes, sometimes I walk through the kitchen at 2 am, en route to somewhere that's none of your business. On the way back, I think, "Ten Things. I can do Ten Things." I might do 10. I might do 100. Either way, it makes a difference. 

Sometimes, after the children are in bed, I look around and see messes and unfinished projects all around, and I have no idea where to start. So I rotate through the spaces, doing Ten Things. After making a couple rounds of doing Ten Things, I realize that each space is no longer unconquerable, and I start conquering spaces.

I'm not claiming that it's an efficient way to do housework, but for me, with my fluttery-jibbety-flittery brain, it helps draw me into motion. 

I can do Ten Things.

I'm also teaching my children this. When EVERYONE does Ten Things, it goes 10x faster. Ok, not really, but they are learning. 

They can do Ten Things.

One thing at a time.

A case of "The Momses"

Oh, don't mind my rumbling,

I'm really not grumbling-

I love this circus and zoo.

But in case you wonder,

Take a moment and ponder

The stimulation that Mothers go through. 

The noise

    Of the boys

The wiggles

The giggles

The squirming all over my lap

The squabbles

The wobbles

The tossing

The bossing

The racket during my "nap"

There's the sound of yelling, 

There's this poo that I'm smelling

The taste of this pre-sampled food (🤮)

There's the sight of the messes

The feel of wet kisses...

"How are you?" "Don't worry- I'm GOOD!"

But I beg, please don't judge

While I feast on some fudge,

And curl up, wrapped in a blanket.

A mom can be strong

For only so long,

'Til she expends her power to fake it. 

She'll be right back, after these messages,

Knowing life's full of purpose and promises,

Based on speculation, 

She'll survive the stimulation

She's just had a short bout of The Momses.

- a mom of Very Lively Children 

After "one of those days"

Added, by same Mom of same Children,  after a couple hours of sleep helped reset her perspective:

Thank you, God, for the wiggles and giggles and noise,

For the busy girl and each of the boys,

For the huge hugs and wet kisses,

Messy hands, dirty faces

And for hope, help, and all of the joys.